


Driven to Distraction

by peachytickles



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: F/M, Tickling, cheleanor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:15:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23824441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachytickles/pseuds/peachytickles
Summary: Prompt from @tickle-bugs on tumblr: "How would you feel about a Good Place fic? Maybe Chidi and Eleanor where Chidi is being indecisive all day and it’s driving Eleanor nuts, so she starts to tease him and tell him to decide, so he gives her that knowing look and “decides” to tickle her? I have feelings about ler Chidi,,"
Relationships: Chidi Anagonye/Eleanor Shellstrop
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Driven to Distraction

In all his years of teaching philosophy, Chidi had never come across a student so _determined_ to test his patience.

And where else to encounter her but the afterlife, where time was measured in jeremy-bearimys, and where she turned out to be his soulmate.

Not that that was a problem.

Usually.

But God, today, she was just being so–

“Eleanor, can you _please_ stop bouncing your leg!”

Eleanor looked over at him, blinking a little. She was sitting on the opposite end of the sofa, hunched forwards, flicking through a trashy magazine that was somehow taking up most of the coffee table – and her expression was strange, like she wanted to ask him something. But then her face smoothed out into its usual easy grin, and she was saying something back – “if you insist, Cheedsters,” – and turning the page of her magazine.

Chidi turned his attention back to the novel on his lap, trying not to bristle at the nickname. It didn’t usually grate on him so much. Eleanor didn’t usually grate on him so much. But then again, she’d just done what he’d asked, so maybe now he should just get a grip and stop being so irritable. The best thing for him to do now would be to just focus on the text before him, continue with the lesson plan, and just bask in the rare tranquillity they were experiencing together…

Bouncing.

Eleanor was bouncing her leg.

_Again._

He bit his tongue, fighting the urge to slam the tome shut, and looked over. Eleanor seemed completely unperturbed. She had pulled the magazine closer and was now ogling at photos of Camilla Cabello and Shawn Mendes making out – but her leg was still bouncing rapidly. She lifted a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, and as he watched, he realised she was using it as an opportunity to sneak a quick look at him from the corner of her eye.

“You’re doing it on purpose!”

“Chidi, I-“

“You’re doing it to get a reaction out of me!”

“No, I just…”

He sucked in a deep breath, about to start yelling about how the topic he was compiling notes on was complex, and would she please just let him concentrate for once - -

…And found that it had had the opposite effect. He suddenly felt calmer, like the tension had drained out of his bones. Suddenly the thought of seeing Eleanor’s leg bounce from the corner of his eye as he scanned essay after essay didn’t seem so awful. In fact, if he adjusted his posture slightly, she’d be just out of his line of vision, and he’d be able to focus again.

“Never mind, it’s fine…”

And then he was rearranging himself, picking up his notebook and scrawling down a few bullet points.

On the other end of the sofa, Eleanor pouted. She’d wanted some excitement.

As fascinating as it was to delve into Chidi’s passions, it was beginning to feel like philosophy was all they ever discussed. Would it really kill him to spend an hour dealing with something _other_ than dusty old books? She sighed quietly and glanced out of the window. The skies were blue, and people were milling around the lawn outside, and she knew from eating breakfast in the garden that the temperature outdoors was much warmer than usual.

The original plan for the day had been to hit up _yogurt yoghurt yogurté_ and check out the new range of flavours that had been released, but Chidi’s anxiousness over whether he had chosen the most authoritative articles to cite in his upcoming lecture on decisiveness, choice and intrapersonal happiness had meant that they ultimately stayed home so he could revise his notes. And yes, maybe she was a little bitter about it. And – double yes – maybe she was deliberately trying to annoy him to distraction.

Maybe.

Because perhaps, she realised, a distraction could be just what he needed. A quick, imperceptible smile passed over her lips and she rearranged her position on the sofa, snatching up her magazine as she went.

Chidi barely noticed as she turned so that she was leaning against the armrest, legs stretched out in front of her and crossed delicately at the ankles.

Which was his first mistake.

And so she shook the magazine a little harder than was necessary, making the pages rustle loudly. She yawned, uncrossing her legs and flexing her foot, and as she did so, her toes jabbed Chidi in the thigh. Jabbed him a little too hard to be believably accidental, apparently, because he looked up and actually _scowled._

“Eleanor.”

“What?” She made a show of doing it again, licking her finger and turning the page. “Oh. Sorry. Well, it’s this or bouncing or my leg. You have to decide which you prefer.”

“Decide? No, that’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not. Not really.”

“Eleanor.”

She was silent, staring down mutely at the glossy pages.

“You know, you could look at me when you’re speaking.”

Eleanor shrugged, and her eyes flickered up for a split-second. “I know. I just can’t decide between your _handsome_ face and this _riveting_ article.” She punctuated the words handsome and riveting with two vicious, well-timed little kicks.

“ _Ouch!_ Okay, fine, I get it. You’ve made your point. You can bounce your leg.”

Eleanor finally looked up, and they stared at each other for a moment. Her eyes were slightly narrowed, but after a second she sighed and nodded. Before Chidi could say anything else, she had gone back to noisily flipping through the pages, and so he turned his attention back to his notes.

Everything he’d written suddenly seemed vague and unsure.

He rubbed his forehead and fought the urge to growl, faced with the realisation that there was nothing more he could add. He let the textbook fall shut, and was about to toss it onto the coffee table, to stretch and call it a day, when something pale and pink jolted into his peripheral vision. He yelled, flinching back, hands grabbing at whatever the offending thing was.

A few seconds later, blinking to reorient himself, he realised that he had Eleanor’s bare foot caught in an unforgiving grip. He blinked again, and realised why the speed at which it come towards him had been so dizzying. She had managed to pluck the glasses right from his face with her _toes._

“Thanks a bunch,” he muttered, moving to take them back. “I thought you were done kicking me. Why would you even do that?”

Eleanor shrugged, curling her toes to tighten her grip on the glasses. “I wasn’t convinced. You said I could keep bouncing my leg, but it’s not like you to make such a quick decision. I wanted to check if you were really sure.”

“Only a weirdo would choose being kicked over _leg bouncing.”_

“I don’t know, some would call you a weird dude, Chidi.” Eleanor said, the corners of her lips twitching as though she wanted – but was trying not to - grin.

“You’re the one who just stole my glasses off my face with your _toes!”_

“You’re the one who was asking for it!”

“Eleanor.” Chidi tugged on the glasses again, surprisingly gently for someone who’d been so worked up all day. In fact, it didn’t really seem like he was trying that hard to get them back. “You know, I’m not above playing dirty.”

Eleanor snorted. “You wouldn’t know dirty if it hit you in the face.” She scoffed, and tossed her balled-up, dirty sock at him.

It hit him square on the nose.

“Right, that’s it.” He tightened his grip on her ankle and yanked her closer. “No more Mr Nice Guy.”

Eleanor screamed as she was dragged forward. The magazine thumped to the ground as her hands scrabbled for purchase on the side of the sofa. It took a second for her to regain her composure, but once she did, she took straight to fighting talk. “Oh, come on. That was a weak effort, buddy.” She taunted, somehow managing to _twirl_ the glasses around her big toe. “Try harder next time.”

Chidi snorted. “Are you sure? No more Mr Nice Guy, remember.”

Eleanor scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Sure am. What could you possibly think of that- _ah!”_ She broke off with a sharp yelp, flinching violently as Chidi’s fingers swiped across her sole. She froze and stared at him, betrayed. “You wouldn’t.”

He gave her a look, and though it was mischievous and playful, she felt her skin prickle. “Actually, I would.”

Eleanor bit her lip, considering her options. Sure, could curse at him, or scream for help, but she had a feeling that would only encourage him. And, also, did she really want people bursting in? Or, she could just throw herself at him, start hitting him before he could even-

She was pulled from her thoughts by the sensation of blunt, gentle fingernails fluttering against her arch. A giggle bubbled out of her before she could even think to suppress it, and her cheeks flushed at the sound.

Chidi grinned at her joyfully and stopped, apparently elated with his new discovery. “Where else are you ticklish?”

The blush deepened. “’M not!”

“Wait, really? What was that noise, then?” He asked. The tickles started again, and she twisted, desperately trying to kick her leg free but he held fast, increasing the speed of his fingers in a kind of perverse retaliation. “Do you have hiccups?”

“Ohmuhgod - - _Chidi_.”

_“Eleanor.”_

“Chidi, please.” She choked out. She was determined not to give him the satisfaction of properly laughing, nor did she intend to uncurl her toes and give up the glasses anytime soon.But here he was, breaking down her resolve so quickly it was almost scary.

“Please what? You know, laughter is a good way to cure hiccups.”

She needed to think of an escape. And fast.

“I think there’s someone at the door.”

It worked. Chidi looked over at the door, and it gave her just enough time to wrench herself away and start scrambling to safety.

Not that she got very far – she was reaching out for the armrest and preparing to vault herself over when she felt a hand grab at her knee and start _squeezing._

Eleanor squawked – furious, indignant at being caught so quickly - but there was no denying the hint of laughter colouring the edges of it. Her arm wobbled where she was holding herself up, and she collapsed onto her front. She tried kicking, but there was no use - the cushions around her had started to give as Chidi moved closer, and before she could even think about rolling to the floor for safety, she felt him settle on the small of her back.

“You know, I don’t think you have hiccups at all.”

Eleanor stuttered, trying to think of a defence. “You scared them out of me!”

“I _scared_ them out of you? That’s strange. I can’t imagine you being afraid of a little tickle.”

“I’m not!”

“You’re not? Good, then you won’t mind if I do this.” He said slyly, and his fingers were wriggling insistently against her sides.

“ _Ohhhmyhgohohod_ – Chidi, no!” Eleanor shouted, trying to sound threatening, or angry, or _something_ , but she was already starting to giggle.

“Omigod, Eleanor, yes!” Chidi mimicked in a high-pitched, squeaky chipmunk voice.

It was so ridiculous that Eleanor giggled harder, her whole body twisting and squirming as Chidi’s fingers sped up. “Ihihihi don’t sound like that!” She protested.

“You do now.” Chidi retorted with a laugh of his own. The sound of Eleanor’s hysterical giggling was starting to get seriously infectious. “Hey, are you ticklish here?” He massaged his thumb against her rib experimentally, and the gurgling noise she made in response was _glorious._

He told her as much, and she groaned, hiding her face in the cushions. But her hair was tousled and sticking up, and he could tell that she was blushing again by the rosy tone on her exposed – and usually pale – neck.

“Do it again,” he pleaded, and Eleanor made a tortured sound, shaking her head, only to jerk convulsively beneath him when he brought his other hand up so that all ten of his fingers were scuttling across her ribs. She squealed and twisted, her face becoming visible again as she reached behind herself to try and grab at his hands. But his fingers only danced higher and she - mortifyingly – gurgled again.

“There, was that so hard?”

“Chidi, _please_.” Eleanor choked out through breathless, feverish laughter. “You’re so ehehehevil!” She had gone completely limp, he noticed, no longer squirming or trying to fight back. It was as though she had surrendered herself wholly to the tickles.

And so, he backed off a little, allowing her to roll onto her back and catch her breath. She gazed up at the ceiling with a dazed expression for several long moments, letting out occasional soft, breathy giggles.

Eventually she sat up, smoothing her hair back from her face, and shot him an embarrassed grin. “I hope you realise how mean that was.”

Chidi smiled and raised his glasses at her in a goofy salute. “Well, I finally managed to rescue these, so I think it all evens out.”

“Ha, I dunno, man. I think Bergson would have a lot to say about that.” She leaned forward, reaching for the textbook that had tumbled onto the floor in the struggle, but he kicked it just out of her reach. “Hey, what are you–”

“I thought we had a frozen yogurt date, right?”

—–

And so they ended up at _yogurt yoghurt yogurté_ that day after all, even if it was a few hours later than planned.

And if Chidi made a point of ordering the ‘Tickled Pink’ flavour for Eleanor? Well, he had to agree with her - maybe he did have something of an evil streak after all.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @peachytickles


End file.
